


Trouble I'm Already In

by AssassinOfRome



Series: Brutally Honest, Inescapably Dependable [1]
Category: Hot Fuzz (2007), Shaun of the Dead, The World's End (2013)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Family, Drug Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Stressed Nicholas Angel, The tags keep messing up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-11 14:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4440014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssassinOfRome/pseuds/AssassinOfRome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'It was almost three o’clock before Danny noticed that his partner hadn’t left his office all morning. This wasn’t unusual, but Nicholas usually popped out to get a pen, at least, or to trade barbs with an Andy or two. He peeped through the window, trying to be discreet. Nicholas was on the phone – a Turner had mentioned someone from London calling about half an hour ago. Was it the same conversation? Danny felt his stomach squeeze. London was usually bad news in his book, especially when concerning Nicholas.' </p><p>In which things best left unsaid are screamed out, and things presumed obvious appear to be less so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Walking with an Umbrella, Waiting for Rain

Of course they were out of bloody tea. 

Danny groaned as he knocked his head lightly against the kitchen cupboard. His hand, still partially enclosed in the tea barrel, circled around, as if an elusive bag had evaded his grip. He was too hungover for this rubbish. 

He’d woken up on the sofa after yet another movie night with Nicholas. The pounding of the rain of the window had synched to his own heartbeat, thumping grumpily somewhere around his temple. After the casual nausea had faded, he’d turned to the vacant spot beside him, and sighed. 

Since being promoted to Inspector, Danny had seen less and less of Nicholas. This hadn’t been unexpected – he’d read the handbooks cover to cover (now), and the responsibilities that came with leading were staggering. He wondered how his father had ever achieved such perfect harmony at the station, but that lead to its own, rather more painful train of thought, that Danny struggled to supress. Yet, Danny hadn’t expected to lose his friend’s company quite so fully. There were still the patrols they shared, yes, but gone were most cosy evenings in the pub, or the flat. The previous night had been their first evening off for months, and even then, Nicholas had left early, headache obvious from his tight frown. The silence left too much room for thought, so he’d grabbed another couple of beers, and the Matrix trilogy. Even the third one was decent when coupled with half a six-pack. 

So Danny had awoken, showered, and dressed, as if on autopilot. He’d sloped down into the kitchen, dry mouthed and slightly queasy. Both could have been dealt with using a single cup of sugary sweet tea, but of course, no ineffable brew-loving being came to his aid. Instead he poured a cup of cranberry juice, and supped at the tart liquid. He couldn’t see the appeal himself, but Nicholas liked it, so it was worth trying. Nicholas was usually to be trusted when it came to healthy eating – even though Danny thought the vegetarianism was a bit much. Half of him wondered if Nicholas did too, as he did always linger near the bacon at the newly managed supermarket, before storming off to organic produce. For the first time that morning, Danny grinned. 

He glanced around the flat, pride warming his chest in a way that Earl Grey never could. Though they spent most of what limited time they shared together in Nicholas’ new cottage (he’d gotten an amazin’ new sound system installed, as per Danny’s advice), there were still subtle hints of the inspector around the flat. The cranberry juice was one, as was the general tidiness of the place. Long gone were the unpacked boxes, and takeaway containers; the living room was spotless, and almost pine fresh. Danny did most of the cleaning himself these days – he disliked how twitchy the mess made his friend, and additionally, it helped with his daily stretching routine. 

Unconsciously, Danny rubbed a hand over his stomach. After a year, he was more than healed, though his scars were to last a lifetime. He personally didn’t mind them; he’d do it again, if given the chance, therapy be damned. Besides, they looked sort of cool – the highest one looked like a squiggly Big Dipper (in the right light, if you squinted). Maybe he’d been a bit too eager to show them off once the bandages had been binned, but everyone seemed suitably awed. 

Everyone, that is, but Nicholas. He’d been dispassionate about the whole thing, often telling Danny to put his shirt back on. The other officers had branded Nicholas a spoilsport, but his glare was enough to send them grumbling back to their desks (Danny had given them a proper look in the pub later, whist Nicholas stayed late in his office). Still, he’d hated seeing the funny gleam in Nicholas’ eye – it was a sad sort of anger. That nameless emotion had hung around Nicholas ever since the shoot-out, like a faint raincloud over the inspector’s head. 

It had been getting better though, as the spring came. Winter, and especially Christmas, had made Nicholas grumpier than ever. To some degree, Danny had felt the same – the school closing early had been a pain, considering all the teenagers took to lingering around the fountain, lobbing snowballs at passing cars. Slushballs would have been the more accurate term; it was a rather drab season, weather-wise. Nothing like the picturesque snow Danny remembered from his childhood. In a moment of absurdity, he’d wondered if the NWA had manufactured the weather in their grand obsession – Sandford had always been perfect when the snow settled. As the weather warmed, so had Nicholas’ mood. He was friendlier, with the locals, and the officers. Danny had even seen him crack a smile once or twice whilst they walked the streets. He’d been immeasurably glad of that, and had walked with a spring in his step all day. Even the Andes couldn’t dampen his mood, though he did lessen up on the ‘bloody prancing’. 

A glance out of the window told Danny all he needed to know – the rain was showing no sign of stopping. He didn’t mind going to work – since Nicholas had taken over, it had felt less like a chore, and more like a pleasure – but it was just the journey from his warm, dry flat, to the cosy station. His car, still battered and scratched from the year previous, was at the garage, getting serviced. These days, he walked more anyway, but Danny had never been a big fan of the rain. 

Shucking on his coat, Danny grabbed his keys, and headed for the door. Sudden inspiration struck him – he could go to that new bakery that had opened on Norris Avenue, near the vet’s. It wasn’t too far from the station, and all the rain in the world would be worth seeing Nicholas smile at the treats. The blonde had a secret sweet tooth when it came to doughnuts, and Danny had made it his life’s goal to abuse this little titbit every so often. For this plan, though, he needed his wallet, and backtracked to the living room. 

That’s when he saw them, glinting in the morning light. Nicholas’ reading glasses. They were folded neatly, arm over arm, at perfect right angles to the coaster he insisted on using. Danny thought that was sweet – he never used any table protection himself, but Nicholas remained ever vigilant about coffee stains. Not that the inspector ever drank the stuff – Danny hadn’t quite got him to break that personal rule yet (though he was still hopefully; he’d had success with others over the past few months, especially the Socially Swearing, More than Two Pints in One Night, and Ice-cream At Lunch regulations). Many assumed that with his obsessive organisation objectives, Nicholas would be always attentive, but Danny had discovered, to his joy, that the blonde could be adorably forgetful, especially about his specs. 

With another involuntary grin, he slipped the glasses into his pocket, making sure they wouldn’t scratch against any loose change. He’d slip them discreetly back to his partner whilst on patrol – the silly git didn’t like the others knowing he needed them. He often half-booked appointments at the optician’s regarding contact lenses, but the inspector’s calendar was full to bursting with shift work, and community obligations, as well as meetings, and seminars (Danny still shuddered at the word, though Nicholas claimed to enjoy them). To be honest, the younger male was glad – Nicholas was exactly the sort of person to leave them in absent-mindedly, and having his eyeball chewed through by exotic bacteria. The blonde had wheezed with laughter at that, but it was true! Danny had read it online, and the internet never lied. That had made Nicholas laugh harder, and Danny couldn’t help but join in. 

The glasses bounced in his pocket as he returned to the porch. He cast another reluctant glance at the downpour, but steeled himself. He was an action hero now; a little bit of rain couldn’t defeat him. Feeling a surge of what was either righteousness or stupidity, he stepped out into the miserable weather – his thoughts filled with sweets, spectacles, and a certain smile. 

*

By the time Danny arrived at the station, sodden and pastry-laden, Inspector Angel was already at his desk, pristine as always. He couldn’t help but grin appreciatively as he dumped the box on his desk. With a schedule that demanding, the younger male couldn’t comprehend how Nicholas stayed so neat. Despite the rain, he didn’t have a hair out of place, and his uniform was crisp – boots polished, stab vest on, trousers spotless. In Nicholas’ shoes, Danny would barely have time to shave. No wonder Sergeant Popwell had that bushy beard – it was much easier. 

There was no time to dwell on the impeccable inspector, however, as other members of the team began to dribble in, most complaining about the storm. The Andes, having come from the other side of town, were predictably grumpy, their moustaches peppered with rain-drops. Saxon was soaked, and decided to share this sogginess with the whole office, by aggressively shaking himself just next to Doris’ desk. There was a pause, as they waited for Nicholas to explode, but the blonde was too busy on the computer to comprehend glancing out of his office window. 

The morning passed quickly – the doughnuts even quicker – filled with gentle chatter, and occasional paperwork. It was due to be a quiet day; there were no looming cases, and it was simply too wet outside to commit any crimes. Even after everything that had happened, the general mood of the team hadn’t changed. The Andes still made crass jokes, and everyone joined in. Yet there was more confidence, more productivity. There had been promotions too – Danny and Doris had graduated as sergeants together, and Tony made an excellent Acting Inspector, though there weren’t many opportunities for him to show off this talent. He and Nicholas made a brilliant team, and the rotas were fairer than ever. The station had the same contented air as always, but it now masked a steely backbone, and a powerful workforce. The officers were respected, and respectful in equal measure, and for once felt important, the threat of NWA intervention vanquished. Not that they talked about it. Instead, the Andes insulted, Tony blundered and Bob muttered. Doris mentioned another failed romance, but she laughed about it, so Danny didn’t feel too bad for her. She was a lovely girl – they’d been best mates since school – and she’d find someone eventually. It was just a matter of waiting, and Doris was nothing if not patient. 

It was almost three o’clock before Danny noticed that his partner hadn’t left his office all morning. This wasn’t unusual, but Nicholas usually popped out to get a pen, at least, or to trade barbs with an Andy or two. He peeped through the window, trying to be discreet. Nicholas was on the phone – a Turner had mentioned someone from London calling about half an hour ago. Was it the same conversation? Danny felt his stomach squeeze. London was usually bad news in his book, especially when concerning Nicholas. They had a power over the inspector that nothing else had, and Danny hated seeing his partner helpless. 

Nicholas looked particularly wretched at the moment. He was frowning hard, his thin lips a grim line in his pale face. His whole manner was skewed – there were no notes being taken, no enthusiasm in his eyes. It was this, more than anything else, which made Danny stand, and knock on the office door. Behind him, someone mentioned putting the kettle on, but he wasn’t listening. His caffeine craving was long gone, replaced with surprise, as Nicholas - Nicholas Angel, patron saint of office supplies worldwide – slammed the phone down, burying his head in his hands. 

“Bad call?” Danny asked, his voice echoing around the now awkwardly empty office. He regretted it almost instantly. Nicholas barely lifted his head, peeking out from behind his fingers. He could see where his partner’s hair had been mussed. 

“What do you want, Danny?” The tone was curt, informative – even Saxon would have had problems rivalling its bark. “Because I’m really not in the mood for any inane questions.” 

“Are you alright?” Sergeant Butterman had to remind himself that he didn’t run from danger anymore. He wasn’t a boy, hiding in his father’s murderous shadow. He could confront a grumpy Angel, no problem. “You look a little…” 

Bad. Move. 

The inspector pulled himself upright, his shoulders ruler straight, and eyes flashing dangerously. The expression suited him perfectly, scowling and sharp; it was the one he wore almost constantly during the first week of his transfer. And it showed no sign of easing. 

“I’m fine.” Nicholas glanced down at his desk, where a mountain of paperwork had accumulated. He chose to glare at this, instead of Danny, pulling half of the stack in front of him. The younger officer hadn’t realised you could aggressively click a pen, but Angel had the tactic perfected. “Get back to work, Sergeant.” 

“I- Yes sir.” Danny reasoned that you couldn’t argue with someone ignoring you, so elected to leave on his own terms (or near enough.) That didn’t stop him sighing loud enough once the door clicked shut to alert Doris’ attentive ears. 

“He still in a grump, Danny?” She asked, good-naturedly, but her sweet smile sobered quickly as Danny trudged over to his desk. Instead, she turned sympathetic, offering the last of the doughnuts, which she’d been hiding from the Andes in her drawer. It was the simplest Danny had bought – no lashings of caramel, or chocolate sprinkles. It was merely dusted with sugar, one blob of scarlet jam leaking from the side, where it had gotten battered in the box. He’d picked it out for Nicholas. Danny shook his head, and instead turned to his own paperwork pile, considerably smaller than Nicholas’ but still depressingly bulky. In a surprising act of tenderness, the Andes patted him on the shoulder as they passed - they’d decided it was better to stand in the torrent of rain than have Nicholas realise they weren’t on patrol. 

“Don’t worry, Danny; you know what London calls do to the inspector.” Tony laughed, trying to return the office to its usual brightness. Still, his voice was low, as to not aggravate the now pacing tiger they called Angel. “Give him a couple of days, and he’ll be right as rain. Always works with the wife.” Any sniggers were immediately silenced when Nicholas gave a loud cough. Danny couldn’t help but notice how harsh it sounded against the quietened room. 

‘Stop it Danny.’ He chided himself internally, in a voice that sounded like a mix of his mother’s and Nicholas’. ‘He’s fine, he told you himself. If anything was wrong, he’d tell you. You’re partners; Nicholas wouldn’t hide from you. Especially not when he- Well he just wouldn’t.’ 

“He’s just fretting over nothing.” He whispered, quiet enough that no-one - not even bat-eared Doris - could hear.


	2. Time is a Circus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicholas is keeping secrets - big ones. Danny just wants to know how he can help.

But Nicholas got worse and worse. 

Despite apologising for his early rudeness, Danny could still sense there was something wrong with his partner. He was quieter than usual, for a start. During patrol, he often lapsed into silence, face scrunched up as he delved into his seemingly intense thoughts. This, in itself, was not unexpected – Nicholas never switched off whilst at work, his mind always ticking away. 

Warning flags started to rise when he noticed Nicholas – in another of his thoughtful trances – failing to spot a shoplifter sneaking out of the newsagents. True, Danny’s own gaze had only been fixed on the shop as he longed for his lunchtime Cornetto, but the sergeant had never known his partner to miss a crime, even one so minute as stealing cigarettes. When nudged, Nicholas had sprung into action, all Super Inspector, making another dazzling arrest. Yet Danny had seen the way his face had fallen after slinking back into his office, despondent. Nicholas was ashamed of himself for nearly missing the theft, and it showed. Danny tried to play it off as a fluke, but it had alerted his attention irreparably. Nicholas was distracted – there was no debate in that. And his distraction was distracting Danny. 

After three days, the sergeant couldn’t take it anymore. The curiosity burned in him, like battery acid. He did take some joy in this fact though; when his father had been inspector, Danny hadn’t had the slightest smidgen of intrigue in him. He would have preferred to hover in the staff kitchen, stealing biscuits and making jokes, to actually ever thinking for himself. 

But Danny wasn’t perfect. He couldn’t think his way through every possible path, every conclusion. Though multiple theories whizzed through his thoughts, he couldn’t put the evidence in place. When he and Nicholas worked together, he contributed to the connecting factors, not the hypothesis itself. He needed Nicholas’ intuition, but that would require asking for help. And he couldn’t do that. 

Could he? 

He could just ask Nicholas what was wrong. Danny had always been good at getting secrets out of the cautious blonde; he’d been doing it since they met. Well, not the first time, but both of them agreed that public drunkness and arrests didn’t exactly count as an introduction. 

When there was a lapse in activity (or to put it more accurately – when there was a lapse in the lapse of activity), he crossed the room, and knocked thrice on Nicholas’ door. One of the only things he hated about the change in Inspector was just how by the book everything had become. Though this change hadn’t influenced the majority of the team, Nicholas had taken it to heart. He rarely called anyone by their first name during work hours, and knocking was mandatory. He missed his dad’s old methods sometimes – he liked being able to drift from conversation to conversation. 

After a few seconds, he heard Nicholas invite him in. The inspector sounded weary, and when Danny clapped eyes on him, he could see why. Nicholas was sat at his desk, spine strictly straight, face screwed up in pain. He was cradling his right hand in his left, and it took Danny a few seconds to realise he was running his thumb up and down the faded knife scar that marred his palm. Though he never really mentioned it – Danny sensed he was almost embarrassed by the situation in which he’d received the injury – the sergeant knew his friend sometimes suffered from cramps when he’d been writing for too long, or when the weather got colder. He wondered for a moment if the damp rain had caused the hand to act up, but Nicholas looked up before he could finish his thought process. 

“Sergeant Butterman, what can I do for you?” Nicholas gave the hint of a smile, his blue eyes soft in his fondness. If Danny hadn’t known better, he would have never guessed that the inspector was in any pain. If anything, he seemed more relaxed than the last couple of weeks. This aura, more than anything, allowed the brunette to pose the question he’d been forming all day. 

“Oh I was just wonderin’…” Danny couldn’t help but feel flustered – the combination of the morning light, and the faint birdsong, and the relief of seeing Nicholas looking vaguely happy made his heart sing. “You doin’ anythin’ after work?” 

“Erm,” Nicholas paused, his eyes flicking upwards as he thought. His lips pulled into a gentle pout, and Danny was awestruck. It wasn’t the first time he’d eyed the blonde’s lips, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but it was certainly soothing. “I really should stay to finish this series of reports up. And that’s not taking into consideration these.” He gestured to the stack of payslips which he’d been signing as Danny walked in. 

“Oh come on, Nick, please?” He begged. “It’ll all still be here tomorrow, won’t it? It’s been ages since we’ve been out. We’ll go to the pub, ‘ave a couple of pints-.” Nicholas interjected with a sigh. 

“I don’t think I can stomach any of the Crown’s finest tonight, Danny. It tastes like dirty dishwater at the best of times, let alone when I’m-“ 

“When you’re what?” Danny interrupted the interruption, his gaze flickering to the blonde’s now clenched hand. Suddenly, he didn’t care that Nicholas had upset him. He didn’t even care that Nicholas had lied. All he wanted was his best friend back, and if there was something seriously wrong, he wanted to help. “What’s wrong Nick?” 

For a moment, Nicholas looked like he was about to buckle. A curious dampness seeped into his steely eyes, as he glanced up from his paperwork. Danny couldn’t help but lean closer, as Nicholas opened his mouth. 

“I-“

“Inspector, you’re needed down the post office. Some kids have tried to nab some packages, and it’s a shambles.” Tony blundered into the moment, clutching a clipboard as he nibbled at the base of his pencil. Nicholas’ gaze was broken, and he pushed himself to his feet. 

“Thanks, Tony, I’ll be right through.” He turned to Danny and gave his version of a shrug, which was a small tilt of the head, as the corners of his mouth twitched. The sergeant had to fight back the urge to grab Nicholas’ sleeve, and tug him back – back in time by those few seconds, just for long enough to finish his sentence.   
But before Danny could blink, the blonde was gone, marching out of the doors like a school-teacher, ready to scold some unruly pupils. He swore - under his breath, so he wouldn’t have to donate the last of his change, and smacked his hand against Nicholas’ ancient computer. Pain juddered through his fingers, and he couldn’t help but wince and try to rub the pain away, mirroring his boss’ earlier action. 

So asking hadn’t worked, at least not during work hours. This would take something slyer, more devious. 

It was time for some real detective work. 

*

If asked, he’d just say it was a continuation of his “ask Nicholas” plan. In truth, he felt a little bit cooler sneaking down Spencer Hill in the dead of night. Well, not the dead of night; it hadn’t even gone eleven yet. And it also wasn’t much of a sneak, more of a casual stroll, to the outside observer. Danny still thought it was awesome, and caught himself humming the Mission Impossible theme as he went. 

He hadn’t had chance to finish the conversation with his partner, after he’d darted out of the station like a gazelle on steroids. Instead, Nicholas had spent the majority of the afternoon playing Hide and Seek with the hoodies, as they tried to avoid capture. They’d been quite good at it too, by Tony’s account – Nicholas only caught them because they were stupid enough to stop for a cigarette. The inspector had been less impressed, spending the rest of his shift calling parents, and laying down the law in his sombre serious voice, which sounded more gravelly than ever. For once, Nicholas hadn’t stayed behind after his shift to complete extra work. He’d gone straight home, looking ready to drop. Danny would have left him alone if it hadn’t been for the pleading glance he shot the sergeant as he left the station. 

Nicholas needed him. 

Upon approaching Nicholas’ cottage, Danny breathed a silent sigh of relief. Nicholas’ porch light was still on the blink – he’d been meaning to replace it, but the nearest supplier of adequate bulbs lived in Buford Abbey, and the inspector hadn’t had time to call round. Though detrimental to discovering which of the neighbourhood’s cats was shitting all over Nicholas’ petunias, this was essential to Danny’s plan. A working porch light had a motion sensor, which would activate the second Danny blundered up to the house. This way, he could slip into Nicholas’ front garden, unseen, and peer quickly into his front room. A five minute glimpse would tell him all he would need to know if Nicholas was ill, or depressed (Danny hadn’t stopped to consider that Nicholas might be upstairs doing either – or both – of those things). It would also tell the sergeant if the blonde had any unmentioned company; he seemed very chatty on the phone, especially when a figure Doris mentioned being called Shaun phoned. He felt his stomach clench in jealousy at the thought, and his hand curled around the bottle of wine he held. Danny himself wasn’t the biggest fan of wine – or grapes, if he was honest – but Nicholas liked it, and God knows he needed cheering up. 

But Danny didn’t see any mysterious men, from London or otherwise. Nor did he see Nicholas curled up on the sofa, with a blanket and the shivers, like he’d pictured. There weren’t even any grapes. Instead Nicholas’ front room was filled with brown boxes, all neatly stacked in one corner. The man himself was currently taping up another, and Danny got a quick glimpse of the contents. It contained the photographs they had taken together whilst on a day trip to London. Nicholas didn’t cradle them, like one would expect. Instead, he stacked them, neat and tidy, before moving to the next box. In this, he packed away his books – Nicholas’ precious books, which he had confided to Danny, were often more important than anything else in the blonde’s life. 

Why was Nicholas boxing up his things? Despite there being a small amount of flooding in Sandford, Nicholas lived on a hill – his house was safe and dry, unlike Danny’s soggy basement. The sergeant reasoned that he might be hoping to give some of his possessions away – Nicholas often gave old clothes to charity shops – but why dispose of such personal items? He hadn’t mentioned any redecorating plans, as he’d only recently painted the living room. 

Which could only mean one thing. 

Nicholas was moving away. 

Danny didn’t realise he’d dropped the wine, until he felt the liquid seeping into his shoes. His delayed reaction startled him, and he glanced down in pity at the ruby liquid staining Nicholas’ spotless porch. 

Shit. Nicholas. Had he seen? The sergeant risked another peek in the window. Nicholas was glancing around warily, holding the tape, as if it might serve as some sort of weapon. His shoulders were tense from beneath his white shirt – the inspector was getting ready to dart. If Danny made another sound, he’d be at the door in seconds, all observant, and wired, and shit. 

A few tense breaths later, Nicholas looked away, shaking his head in dismissal. He went back to taping up the boxes, and Danny quickly jolted out of his line of sight, to hide behind some rather delightfully scented honeysuckle, that Nicholas had planted to creep up to the lindle of his front door. 

No. Nicholas couldn’t go. He couldn’t leave – not now! Sandford couldn’t lose another inspector. Danny tried to ignore the ache in his chest as he thought about the station without Nicholas in it. About his life without Nicholas in it. 

What would he do without Nicholas? Who would he talk, work, spend time with? Danny reasoned that maybe he would go back to his old ways – make jokes at work, never taking anything seriously, then come home, get pissed, and stick on a film before it all sunk in. The idea made him furious. He hated the way he used to live, and going back to it now? It would be like living without air. No, Nicholas couldn’t go. Danny would change his mind, come hell or high water. A plan was beginning to form as he snuck from the garden and made his way home. 

He just hoped it would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good God, my update game is weeeeeeak. Just wanted to get something out before going to college. 
> 
> I've got most of the next chapter written out, and just needs some tweaking. I promise Gary, Shaun and everything they bring with them will feature, and strongly too, but there's just one more chapter of slowburn. Sorry! 
> 
> All my love to Jochem, who is the only reason this exists ;) Ulla deserves a mention too, because she's so gosh darn cute. 
> 
> Well, I hope you enjoyed it, and feel free to leave any comments/criticism!


End file.
